That Was Me
by Adalanta
Summary: *COMPLETED* Sometimes living is worse than dying. What were Ty, Sully, Faith, and Bosco's thoughts during the funeral for the slain police officer at the end of
1. Ty

That Was Me

By Adalanta

Disclaimer: All of the characters portrayed in this story are the property of Third Watch and NBC. 

Author's Notes: I watched the episode "A Hero's Rest" for the first time last night and got inspired. This is the first time I've ever written a story from a first person point of view, so I'm kinda nervous about it. Anyway, there will be four parts to this story, each chapter is a different person's thoughts on what happened. For those of you who missed the show, a man was going around and shooting cops randomly, seriously injuring one and killing another. It's an enthralling episode, full of tension, emotion, and great acting.

Oh, yeah. Please, take a second and let me know what you think by leaving a review or sending me an email at adalanta14@yahoo.com. Thanks!

Part One: Ty 

That was me.

That boy sitting there, staring with vacant eyes at his father's casket - that was me. 

For a few seconds, I actually found myself seeing Craig's funeral from two different sets of eyes: those of an adult police officer and those of a small child. The difference was astounding. Adult vs. Child. Understanding vs. Ignorance. Knowledge vs. Naiveté. 

Looking at that child, I wished more than anything that I could take away what had happened to him and all that _would_ happen to him. The years without a father. An empty void in the heart that cannot be filled. And worst of all, the loss of memory. Yeah, that's the hardest thing - forgetting what your father was like - how he smiled, what he smelled like, how hard he hugged, the feel of his hand touching your cheek. Nothing but memories that fade with time until all that is left are images from pictures that hang on the wall. No real emotional attachment, just images. 

When my father died, I was a little older than Craig's boy, maybe by two or three years. That doesn't sound like much but each year - _each day_ - gave me a few more precious memories of my father. I could still remember him after a few years, but this boy - he won't remember him for long. He's too young.

And maybe that's best.

Maybe it's better to loose someone like that when you're too young to remember what you've lost. I'm sure that his mother will tell him all about his father as he grows up, but it won't be the same. I can only hope that Craig doesn't have as many skeletons in his closet as my own father did. God, if that's true…

No! From the little I knew of him, Craig seemed like an honest guy. Kind, friendly, willing to push himself to do better, to make the cut. Of course, that's what I used to think my father was like until I became a cop myself. Then, I found out things that none of my father's friends - not even Sully - could get up the courage to tell me. Things that hurt worse than his death. I don't know. Sometimes I wonder who my father really was. Oh, I know what he looked like from all of the photographs, but what did he think? How did he feel? How did he justify all of the things that he did? 

I'll never know him.

But I _do_ know what that child will think every single morning when he wakes up. _If I could only see him one more time…If I could just talk to him for a few more minutes…_

It's been over ten years, and I _still_ find myself thinking that. I look at that child, and I know what he's going through, what he _will_ go through. The tears that stream down my cheeks are not only for Craig, who died on duty, not only for his son, who will never know his father, but also for me, who must continue to live. I look at that child and think…

That was me.


	2. Sully

That Was Me

By Adalanta

Disclaimer: see Part One for disclaimer.

Author's Note: Special thanks to Andorian Ice Princess, tycarlosluva, and piaffe417 for the inspiring reviews!

Part Two: Sully

That was me.

That man standing in front of Craig's widow and young son - that was me. 

The years disappear in an instant, and I'm once again standing in front of Ty and his mother, tears streaming down my cheeks, filled with a pain that cannot be expressed. 

There's nothing in the world like loosing your partner. Loosing a spouse or child is not quite the same thing but that's about as close as it would be. I know, I know - I don't have either, so I can't really say for sure, but…yeah, I think it'd be pretty close. 

Close, but not the same thing. You don't go to work every day with your wife or child. You don't sit every day for hours on end, talking about what's going on at home or what you think about this or that. You don't face dangerous situations together every day. And you don't depend upon your wife or child to guard your back, to be there no matter what happens to save your life. 

It's a brotherly bond - one that is voluntary. It goes beyond blood. It goes beyond duty. When you're out on the streets patrolling, it's just him and you against everyone else. When the shooting starts, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he will be there to back you up and protect you.

That's where I failed. 

I didn't see him - the man that killed my partner. I still blame myself for that; even though I know in my mind that there was nothing else I could have done, my heart aches with guilt. Deserved or undeserved, it doesn't matter. The pain never goes away.

Now, as I look at Ty, my dead partner's son and my own partner, I can't help but fear for him. He came so close to getting shot and killed. From what I saw after the arrest, that bullet that shattered the car window only missed his head by a couple of inches. Two inches lower and I'd be standing right where he is now. Right where I was so many years ago. I've already lost one partner…I don't think I could stand to loose another. Besides, Ty's not just my partner, he's almost like my son. Now I know why they never partner fathers and sons together as cops. 

As Ty salutes Craig's widow, I see the tears begin to fall. I should have expected that. He hasn't been to a cop's funeral since his father's. I'm damn certain he hasn't held another person's hand, comforting him as he takes his last breath, his hand covered in a friend's blood. Even _I_ haven't gone through that; Ty's father was killed instantly - never knew what hit him.

That's probably best.

Here one minute, gone the next. No suffering, no last minute regrets. There's something to be said for a quick death. 

Ty slowly lowers his arm and moves to stand in line with the other officers present, right in front of me. I want more than anything to be able to erase the last few days, but I can't. The hard thing is, I can't really do anything. He has to face this on his own. And so do I. 

Life goes on, but that image of Ty standing before Craig's family will stay forever burned into my mind, right next to the image that remains from all those years ago. I think back, and I know…

That was me.


	3. Bosco

That Was Me

By Adalanta

Disclaimer: See Part One.

Author's Notes: Wow! Thanks for all of the reviews! Special thanks goes out to tycarlosluva who has reviewed both parts so far! My thanks also goes out to tydavislover and Max452 for letting me know what you think. Oh, and Max452 - I hope you like this chapter.

Part Three: Bosco

That woulda been me.

Standin' tall and motionless in line with Faith and Sully and everyone else from the 55th Precinct, I stare at the oak casket in front of me and think - that woulda been me. 

I'd be dead right now if not for Rudy. Poor bastard. Sure, the guy was a criminal, but he never really _hurt_ anyone. And he didn't deserve to have his head exploded and his brains blown all over the plexiglass window behind me.

I didn't mean for him to die, I swear. I just wanted him to sit up and act like normal. I mean, c'mon - it wasn't the first time he'd ever been taken away in a squad car. I don't know why he decided to lay down on the back seat…and now I'll never know. I just…I just wanted somethin' to go my way. So, I yelled at him to sit up. He did.

And then he died - in my place.

That's the hard thing. I would never want someone to die in my place. Not that I'm just achin' to die or anythin', but if my time ever comes when I'm on duty, I sure as hell wouldn't want someone to jump in the way and take a bullet that was meant for me. I would do that for Faith - she's my partner, my best friend - but I wouldn't want her to do it for me. 

Now that I think about it, I'm damn lucky to be alive. I missed death by a couple of seconds the first time. If Rudy had sat up just a few seconds later, it would have been my brains and blood smeared all over that RMP and not Rudy's. Then, when I was with Sergeant Christopher (_the jag-off_) waitin' to sign my disciplinary form, I came pretty close to getting shot - missed it by a few seconds again. If I'd just hesitated a few seconds more, then I could be attendin' this funeral lyin' down instead of standin' up at attention. And finally, when I was in the junkyard…

God! I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life, knowing that some maniac with a gun was hidin' behind some pile of crap, ready to blow me away without a second thought. The closest I think I've ever been to bein' that scared was when I was trapped in that room with Daniels mumblin' to me, holdin' that gun to my head. Come to think of it, that time and this one are pretty similiar. But the difference between them is simple - I knew all too well where Daniels was then…I didn't have a clue where _this_ shooter was standin'. 

Not knowin' is definitely worse. 

Well, after all those close calls…I'd never admit it to Faith but the past few days have almost gotten me to believe in that mystical, whimsical thing called "luck." Not only in good luck (which, thank God, I had) but also in bad luck (in short - Rudy). And now, staring at Craig Richardson's casket, knowin' that another one just like it holds Rudy's body, I can't help but think, if not for luck…

That woulda been me. 


	4. Faith

That Was Me

By Adalanta

Disclaimer: See Part One

Author's Note: I can't believe all of the reviews that you all have left! Thank you, thank you, thank you! The following is part four – the last part of this story. I have really enjoyed writing this story and am kinda sad to see it come to an end. However, a part of me is also thrilled – this is the first multi-chapter story that I have finished! 

Thanks once again for being so kind with your reviews.

Part Four – Faith

That coulda been me.

The mournful sounds of "Amazing Grace" ring out through the cemetery, weaving between the bodies of the living and the tombstones of the dead, while I stare at the casket and think - that coulda been me. 

I watch, mesmerized, as Ty salutes Craig's widow and her son, and for just a moment - the scene shifts and Fred and Emily and Charlie are sitting in those chairs, looking at my casket. It's a horrifying thing, imagining your own funeral, but it's even worse when in reality, it almost _was_ your funeral. I was lucky, I know. The last few nights when I get home from work, I quietly open their bedroom door and stare at them, at their sweet, innocent faces, and thank God that I'm still alive.

I shudder to think how close it was, and I can't help but wonder about that first time the shooter fired. What made him decide to shoot at Bosco instead of me? Why did he choose to kill my partner? Did he flip a coin? Did he feel more threatened by male cops than female ones? Did he even think about it or did he just fire? The questions swirl inside my head, each question spawning another one. That was so close…and even closer for Bosco. I can't imagine what I'd do if something ever happened to him. He's my partner, my best friend, and I trust him with my life every single day. 

Honestly…I trust him more than I trust Fred, my own husband.

Then, when I was in the squad car, waiting for Bosco to sign his paperwork and come back, the window right next to me shattered, blowing shards of glass everywhere. I later found the bullet lodged in the other door. I don't know how it missed me, but it did. All those shots being fired - any one of them could have killed me, too. And then in the junk yard…well, I don't even want to _think_ about that.

I was so tempted to call in sick to work, but in the end, all I could see was Bosco's face, Rudy's blood splattered across it, and I knew that I couldn't do that. I mean, what if something happened to Bosco that day when he was stuck with a different partner, one he didn't know and didn't trust? Or even worse, what if Lieu sent him out alone? He could have gotten shot in some alley and bled to death before anyone ever found him. Bosco was why I came back the next day.

Now, don't get me wrong – I love my husband and my kids. But there's a bond between cops – between partners, specifically – that is unlike any other. It's my job to keep Bosco safe, or at least try to. That's a hard job, some might even say impossible, but it is _my _job and no one else's. I'd go through hell for him. Actually, searching through that junkyard for the shooter was about as close to hell as I've ever been – and I hope it's as close as I ever get. Death was nearby, so close I could actually reach out a shaking hand and touch it. 

I'm so lucky that I got another chance at life, unlike Craig Richardson and Rudy. I know that, but I can't help myself. I stand, silently staring at the casket before me and think…

That coulda been me.


End file.
